


Lit Up

by IrishWitch58



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sexy Times, Souvenirs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Bond likes to bring Q presents. They keep disappearing and Bond wants to know why.





	Lit Up

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a pic of an LED keyboard. Then this happened. See if anyone is paying attention to what one of my first fandoms is.

The first time it happened, Q stared at the object, puzzled. Why would Bond bring him this? The item was a pen, with a red maneki neko perched on top, left paw raised. It's face wore a serene smile. Bond had handed it to Q when he had turned in his equipment from the most recent Hong Kong mission. “Souvenir,” he said with the lopsided smile he tended to bestow on people rarely. Q was used to the agent he saw on surveillance, all broad smiles that didn't reach the eyes and grand gestures. This was the expression he reserved for certain people. Moneypenny seemed to warrant it often but so did the middle aged woman who ran the coffee shop on the corner and the pensioner at the newsagent across the street. Up until then, Q hadn't realized he was one of the few. He looked bemusedly at the pen but, before he could say thank you, Bond was out the door. He hadn't thought much of it until later in the day when he saw one of his staff pick the pen up to examine it and had felt a sudden agitation. He waited until the pen was set down again before squirreling it away in his bag. He had taken it home that evening and placed it on his nightstand before he went to sleep.

Since that first occasion he had been presented with a variety of odd small gifts. Pens were the most frequent. He had ones with fiber optics that blinked in patterns, ones with models of monuments on top, and ones with dangling good luck charms. He also had a color changing light up acrylic key fob of the Taj Mahal. That one he carried with him in his messenger bag. It held the key to his locked stash of snacks. 

This time the gift was larger. Bond was standing in front of him, having deposited his (miraculously) returned equipment in the bin, holding out a long slim plain cardboard box with what appeared to be Chinese characters on one end. “Picked this up in Shanghai,” Bond offered. Q took the box and flipped the end open. He slid out the contents, a computer keyboard accompanied by a glossy colored insert. It was, apparently, a light up keyboard. He couldn't fathom why the man had brought him this but he was oddly entranced by it. He slipped it very carefully back into it's cardboard sleeve and looked up to find Bond had already left. He stroked the outside of the box. He wanted to hook it up and use it immediately. He wanted to see how outrageous it would look. But he also knew the hazards to equipment here. Computer peripherals were purchased by the case for Q branch. Spills and damage were a daily occurrence. No. This was going home with him. He slipped the box into his bag and patted it lightly. 

Arriving home, Q rearmed his security and removed his shoes and coat. He fed the cats and commiserated with their complaints of being lonely even though his cam view of them had confirmed their usual entertainments had kept them busy enough between naps. He forced himself to keep to his routine of showering and donning pyjamas. He seated himself at the small desk in his bedroom. The monitors were flat panel and attached to the wall. The cpu was under the desk in a secured and cooled box. The servers were in a locked cupboard. He disconnected the plain graphite key board and reverently opened the box, setting the new one down and plugging it in. It came to instant, sparkling life, multiple colors chasing each other left to right. He grinned and began tapping delightedly. The keys ticked quite responsively under his rapid strokes. He quickly looked up the on line info on the device and made note of how to change the patterns the lights made. Gamer's keyboard indeed. He played games for much higher stakes. He worked quite happily for an hour or so before deciding he was tired enough to sleep. He settled himself beneath the covers, removing his glasses and setting them next to the Oktoberfest souvenir stein that bore a bouquet of pens, including the maneki neko which had pride of place right in the center.

 

Bond had too much time on his hands right now. He had dropped off his equipment and this trip's souvenir with Q early in the day. There were no critical missions projected and the higher ups had determined it was a good excuse for him to use some of his accrued time and catch up with physical assessments. He wandered into Q branch late in the day hoping to find MI6's resident genius in his office, perhaps amenable to an offer of dinner. He found Q had left and one of the senior techs was covering. The woman was tiny, middle aged and almost as smart as Q. Her name was Jenny and she had numerous photos of her kids and her husband on her work station along with a collage of pictures of the wolfhound puppy she had recently adopted. The dog's name was apparently Bodie, the name displayed on a plate at the bottom of the collage frame. Attached to it was a ribbon. Jenny had been ecstatic when they had won a prize in the puppy class at their local dog show.

She looked up as he entered her space. “What can I help you with 007?” Her smile was bright and welcoming. 

He responded in kind, smiling easily and genuinely. “I was hoping to find Q in his office but he appears to have left.”

She chuckled, a low and pleasant sound. “I don't know what you gave him this time but he was clutching his bag like it contained the Crown Jewels when he left here, on time for a wonder.” Bond must have let his puzzlement show on his face because she elaborated. “When you come back from missions, you always bring him a gift. He's very careful to take them home the same day. One of the techs once made the mistake of using one of the pens you brought back and I thought Q might eviscerate him. I just handed the poor lad a biro and handed the pen back to Q and he locked it away in his desk immediately.”

“I thought he didn't care for any of them,” Bond said musingly. “I never saw any of them after I gave them to him.”

“Of course you didn't. He doesn't want anyone else touching them, rather like a small dragon with his hoard. He wouldn't risk someone walking off with something or damaging it. The only exception is the key fob.” Jenny pointed in the general direction of her superior's private office. “He keeps the key to his snack stash on it and only takes it out when he's alone. I only saw it because he was fidgeting with it when I brought him the morning memos one day. I asked him about it and he showed me how it lights up. He had the biggest smile on his face I'd ever seen.”

Bond was quiet for a moment and then said, “Thanks, Jenny.” He turned back toward the elevator. He reflected that Jenny might also be in need of a souvenir the next time he returned. Now he was faced with the prospect of deciding what to do with this new bit of intel. He had wanted to get the genius quartermaster's attention. His usual flirting had not had any effect and he had been fairly blatant. The first gift had been an impulse. A red maneki neko was supposed to draw love to the owner. He had jokingly told himself it might make Q more aware of his interest. But nothing had changed on the surface. So more gifts followed. All of them were accepted without much comment and all had disappeared. Bond had wondered if they were simply discarded privately so as not to seem ungrateful. But he had been mistaken. All the gifts had, according to Jenny, been kept and brought home. The latest gift was one Bond had been worried a bit about. In hindsight, he thought it might be a bit childish for the quartermaster. Apparently that hadn't been the case. Perhaps it was time for a more direct approach. 

 

The quartermaster was a creature of habit. True, he varied his hours and his routes to and from work out of security awareness. He had his groceries delivered by an approved service. He didn't frequent any particular cafe or pub. But he did have one thing that seemed to be a constant. Barring emergencies, he had a standing appointment at a small community center on Wednesday evening where he conducted computer literacy classes for older adults. For two hours every Wednesday evening, security assigned a pair of eyes to that location, usually a field agent on down time. This evening, Bond had appeared at the desk and offered to take the babysitting duty. The younger agent was appropriately grateful and quickly called someone named Pat and arranged a rendezvous before disappearing. Bond took the address and had just slid the sedate Mercedes he had checked out of the pool into a space when a familiar figure strode down the street from the opposite direction. Q barely glanced at the car, nodding in acknowledgment of the presence of his minder, and headed into the building. 

Bond adjusted the directional mike to pick up the corner meeting room. He sipped from a takeaway cup of coffee as the voices quieted from their pre class conversations and Q began to take them through a lesson on selecting more secure web browsers and keeping their personal data safe. It seemed as if the members of the class had already been exposed to Q's brand of teaching and quirky sense of humor. They asked what Bond considered good questions and joked right back at their teacher. When the session seemed to be winding down, Bond exited the car, taking up a position leaning against the fender. The students filed out in groups of two or three, chatting amiably as they dispersed through the neighborhood or headed for the tube station. Q left the building, turning to say something to a fellow Bond assumed was the manager of the center as he was using a large ring of keys to lock up. Q descended the few steps and immediately noticed Bond. He shook his head in a slightly disbelieving gesture, a half smile curving his lips. He walked toward the car, loose limbed and relaxed, somehow different than his work persona. He stopped a step or so away and cocked his head to one side.

“How did you end up with babysitter duty, 007? I would have thought you'd be exempt. They generally assign a junior agent.”

Bond straightened up, the move putting him very much in Q's space. “Well I resented that some wet behind the ears newbie was watching your arse. I told the youngster that was my privilege.” Bond eased even closer and Q choked and sputtered, the flush in his face visible even with just the streetlights. 

“You didn't?!” Q almost shouted, then more quietly, “please tell me you didn't tell anyone that.”

Bond relented in the teasing. “Well I may have been a bit more circumspect but it is a very attractive arse. Can't blame me for noticing. And I had to do something. You didn't appreciate my flirting.”

Q shook his head. “You flirt with everyone. It's like breathing with you. I didn't think you were serious.”

Bond had stepped in a bit closer again, leaving Q up against the fence surrounding the community center. “And the gifts didn't strike you as more direct?”

“I wasn't sure. You could have been joking. I didn't want to look ridiculous.” Q was fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag and looking at the middle button of Bond's black wool overcoat.

Bond reached out a finger and lifted his chin. “You don't look ridiculous. You look lovely.” He leaned in and whispered against one ear, “You'd look even lovelier stretched out on a mattress.” He punctuated the comment with a light kiss to the now shivering skin under Q's ear and then nipped the ear lobe. Q stared at him wide eyed as Bond pulled back, giving him room to decide how to react. 

After a moment, Q raised a hand to Bond's face, frowning in concentration before drawing them together, stroking his lips over Bond's mouth and sighing as Bond snugged an arm around his waist, completing the embrace. Drawing away a bit he said, “There's a perfectly adequate mattress at my place.”

Bond chuckled. “I knew you were a genius.” He stepped to the car and opened the passenger door, letting Q step in before moving quickly to the driver's side and starting the engine. The ride was a short one, only three or four blocks. Q directed him to a gate around the back of the building where there was a space for the car. He stepped to the door to disengage the security and Bond crowded behind him, stroking his sides and breathing against the back of his neck. 

“Bond, James, please let me at least get us inside.” Q's voice was strained and urgent as he struggled with the key and the electronics.

Bond pulled his hands away and laughed low and provocative. “I'd apologize but I'm not at all contrite. I'll keep my hands off so you can get us inside but then all bets are off.”

Q made quick work of the security system and relocked and rearmed everything. The moment he turned away from the control panel, he was crowded against the wall by 13 stone of agent who had apparently grown octopus arms. His hands were everywhere. Q had the presence of mind to kick off his shoes knowing they would end up in the way then proceeded to make his own inroads. He thought he was doing rather well until Bond kissed him. Q gave a soft gasp and just held on to whatever he could reach, in this case one side of Bond's shirt and his left ear. Bond slowly turned and walked Q backwards toward the center of the room. The sofa looked comfortable enough but seemed a bit short. It was also occupied by one of Q's cats who was watching with a look of disdain. “Bedroom?” he mouthed against a convenient bit of Q's neck. Q gave an irritated huff and pulled away, grabbing Bond by one hand and towing him down the short hallway. 

Q made another ineffective stab at getting Bond out of his suit but kept getting distracted. Apparently the mutual disrobing considered de rigeur in romantic movies was not terribly practical. He stepped away and began on his own clothes. Bond seemed to get the idea because he began peeling off his own garments, folding them and draping them over the desk chair. Bond was smiling as he noted the keyboard, flickering lights chasing over the surface. Q discarded his glasses on the bedside table and grabbed Bond by the arm. Bond had little time to appreciate the sight of a naked and aroused Q before he was pulled to the bed, ending up on elbows and knees with Q pinned under him. He traced Q's mouth with his tongue and Q responded eagerly, opening his mouth and tangling his tongue with Bond's. His hands made forays down ribs and to the rise of Bond's ass, squeezing experimentally. Q squirmed and pulled his mouth away. “How did I end up on the bottom in my own bed?” he groused, setting his teeth against a convenient shoulder.

 

Bond gave a soft grunt in response and shifted his weight sideways, rolling them both and ending up flat on his back with Q sprawled over him Q found himself trapped. James had managed to wrap his legs around Q's hips and plant his heels on the mattress between Q's knees. It left Q's lower body confined to small movements and he had to support himself on his hands. He was much more limited like this. He huffed and wriggled and Bond just laughed, a low filthy chuckle as he pressed his own hips upward and used his deadly hands to drive Q mad. “I thought you wanted to be on top?” he teased, as he ran his fingers lightly up Q's spine.

“I rather imagined a little more freedom of motion associated with the position.” Q's voice was pitched higher and had a breathless quality. “Oh Fuck!” Bond had gripped his hips firmly and was using his sheer strength to hold Q still. He needed to bloody move and he couldn't manage more than an ineffectual wriggle. “Come on James, let me move.”

“Patience is a virtue, Q. Has nobody ever told you that?” Bond continued his exploration, finding new bits of skin to caress. He urged Q's head down to another kiss. Q acquiesced, luxuriating in the kiss for long moments before drawing away with a nip of sharp teeth at James' lower lip. “I didn't realize you were so oral, Quartermaster. Have you had all your shots?”

“I'll show you oral, you overgrown octopus. Just let me move!” With the final word, Q gave a serious shove. James chose that moment to relent in his grip with the result that Q almost flipped himself off the bed. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, he glared at Bond who was grinning at him, all insouciant charm. He crept back up the bed, “You don't play fair, do you?” 

“I play to win,” James replied.

“Well I'm rather fond of winning myself. Thing is, I rather think we can both win.” While he spoke, Q positioned himself for access to the thoroughly mouth watering erection James was sporting. He kept his eyes firmly on the blue ones watching him as he licked a stripe up the underside, savoring the flavor. James' mouth dropped open on a sharp indrawn breath. Q repeated the action and swirled his tongue around the head this time. James fisted his hands in the blankets. This was much more like it. Q loved this. Drawing out a lover's pleasure with mouth and hands, learning from the responses what to do more of. And James was a fascinating read. He obviously liked to have fun in bed. He wasn't terribly bothered about giving up control either. Q hadn't been certain about what James might expect. But it seemed the agent who needed to maintain such control in the field was a man willing to cede some of it occasionally. 

Q gave his best effort, swallowing as deeply as he could and drawing away with deliberate slowness, spit and precome dripping everywhere. James watched him until it seemed to become too much, closing his eyes and moving his hips in time to the agonizingly slow pace of Q's mouth. He gave a soft disappointed noise when Q pulled away and his eyes shot open as the noise of a drawer opening intruded. Q slicked his hand with a bit of lube, applied it to the length of James' arousal and then slid the condom on with more lube on the outside. He smiled slyly at the absolutely blissed out look on the man's face. It did pay to invest in a high quality lube. He knelt up, gripped the base of James' cock and found the right angle with a bit of shifting. He rested his other hand on James' chest and was delighted when it was covered by one of James'. He kept his eyes wide open as he slid down and up in a shallow motion, getting himself used to the stretch before sliding down enough for the head to seat itself. James groaned and Q could see him making a valiant effort to hold still. Q slid down further and then up slightly before settling all the way. 

“Fuck you feel fantastic, James.” He breathed deeply and steadily, gradually relaxing into it before beginning to move in earnest. He set a slow pace, wanting to catch up. He's lost a bit of his own edge when focusing on James but his erection quickly took renewed interest. James reached his free hand to grip Q's cock, adding some of the lube although, as eager as Q was, it was hardly necessary. Q set the pace and James followed the rhythm, stroking Q's cock in time with the rise and fall of his hips. As his own arousal became more urgent, Q put a bit of a twist and squeeze into his motions. James began buck under him and he began to time his movements to slam down harder as James rose to meet him, the grip on his cock putting him over, a few seconds before James gave a hoarse groan and stiffened as he finished. Q collapsed forward, breathing slowing only gradually as they slid free of each other. When he was able to raise his head, he was aware of James tying off the condom and depositing it in the wastebasket and then found himself wrapped tightly in the strong arms again.

“I concede,” the low voice rumbled through Q's ear, pressed against James' chest. “That was a definite win.” He gave a soft chuckle. “Who would have imagined you'd fuck like a ferret on a sugar rush?”

Q tilted his head so he could see James' face. “Was it too much? I know I can be a bit bossy...”

James tightened his grip. “You can be a bossy little ferret anytime you like. I may need to train harder to keep up with you, Not sure the last time I felt like that.”

“Like what?” Q wanted to know.

James considered for a bit, as if unsure how much to say. “Like I'm important for me and not for what I can do. People always seem to want something else. You just seem to want me.”

Q smiled and kissed the middle of James' chest, finding it a bit sticky. “Tell you one thing I do want is a shower. I made rather a mess.”

They managed to get up out of the tangle of blankets which Q threw carelessly to the floor. “There're more in the cupboard.” He led the way to the bathroom, his keyboard blinking cheerily as they passed. 

“Why not keep that at work?” Bond asked.

“Spillage,” Q replied over his shoulder. I can't tell you how many peripherals get ruined on the course of a single week with tea, coffee, machine oil, etc. I once had a technician come down with the flu and vomit all over their keyboard. This stays safe here.” 

 

The following Monday, Bond entered Q branch with a paper shopping tote in one hand and a smile on his face. He strode up to Jenny's desk and passed her a mug with a ribbon tied to the handle. It displayed a picture of a wolfhound with the caption, Irish Wolfhound Mom. She grinned and nodded at the bag in his hand. “He's in his office.” As Bond walked to the door, Jenny was fending off inquiries and showing off her new mug as she headed to the teapot.

Q looked up as Bond entered, closing the door behind him. He looked at the plain brown paper tote perplexed. “You've not been on a mission.”

Bond shook his head. “No mission. Just a shopping trip.”

“It's not my birthday.” Q continued to frown at the bag as though it were a puzzle.

“Since you haven't told me your birthday, I wouldn't know. Maybe you should just have a look?”

Q cautiously peered into the bag and withdrew a cardboard sleeve identical to the one he had received after Bond's last mission. “But you've already given me one of these. I mean, I love it but, why another?”

“It's for here,” Bond reached into a pocket and pulled out a smaller packege. “This goes with it.” Q turned the package around and pulled out a thin silicone plastic sheath that looked rather like a ghost of a keyboard, flexible and transparent. Bond took it from him and showed how the bottom opened to fit around the harder plastic. “Medical uses them and their computers get spattered with all sorts of unpleasantness. I just contacted the manufacturer to make sure this one fit your keyboard.” 

Q glanced between the cover and the keyboard, finally reaching out for the thin plastic. He puzzled a bit and finally had Bond hold the keyboard while he meticulously fitted the silicone cover around it. It snapped into place, the shapes settling into the appropriate spaces. Q set it down on the desk and plugged it in. The lights began their cheerful chase around the board and he grinned. Bond drew him in and kissed him lightly, Q allowing it since the door was closed. He suspected the kisses might also become a regular occurrence and he welcomed that thought more than the souvenirs. After all, he was running out of room in that stein.


End file.
